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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29451255">Roar of the Lion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triskellion/pseuds/Triskellion'>Triskellion</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fast &amp; Furious (Movies), The Sentinel (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Little Black Dress, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:47:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29451255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triskellion/pseuds/Triskellion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian O'Conner, sentinel and cop, is sent undercover to find out who has been hijacking trucks of electronics on the freeways of Los Angeles. What he discovers might just be a much larger miscarriage of justice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian O'Conner/Dominic Toretto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>292</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Roar of the Lion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Tuna on white, no crust, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. How is it?” Brian said the words, the same words he said every day, projecting silly joy and guidestruck pleasure as hard as he could. He was a sentinel, and sentinels that slipped through the cracks of the Sentinel/Guide system were few and far between, but he had to convince everyone that he was just such a sentinel or they’d suspect the truth. And normally he could hide his sentinel nature just fine, but it wasn’t possible to hide much of anything from a guide as strong as Mia Toretto, even untrained.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Every day, for the last three weeks, you’ve come in here, asking how the tuna is. Now, it was crappy yesterday, it was crappy the day before, and guess what, it hasn’t changed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Going undercover was something Officer Brian O’Conner of the LAPD usually liked, but not now. Not this case. Not since he’d filed for exemption upon meeting Mia Toretto and been thrown back into the midden heap without so much as a by your leave. Fucking FBI. Fucking Bilkins.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have the tuna.” Brian grinned brightly and shoved those thoughts to the depths of his brain and focused on Mia’s smile, the way she made everyone around her feel good. Deep down, he wondered how her brother had managed to keep her safe all this time. A guide as strong as Mia was a trouble magnet, bonded or unbonded, and usually caught the eye of the Centers pretty fast.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No crust?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe she’d come online after her brother got out of Lompoc and everyone was too afraid of the criminal to go after his sister. Maybe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was Bilkin’s theory anyway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No crust.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia snorted and rolled her eyes as she went to make the sandwich. She was right, the tuna was lousy, but turning his senses down until he couldn’t taste it helped Brian stay balanced. He could have leaned on Mia, but he didn’t want to give her any impression he was trying for a bond of any kind. That, and it just wasn’t polite.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A shiver went down Brian’s spine as Mia set the plate on the counter. He let his senses out, scanning the market with his hearing, using the sour taste of the poorly prepared tuna to keep himself from zoning. Something was different from any of the times he’d been in the last few weeks. Ah, a heartbeat in the back office, strong and steady. Was this Toretto? Brian had been trying to get a look at the guy for weeks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian glanced over at the shadowed corner and saw a muscled figure step out of the office and grab something, a can, from the nearest refrigerator. As he turned back to the office, brown eyes glanced over the market, focusing on Brian for a long moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And Brian almost lost the contents of his lunch all over the counter as his stomach did a backflip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?” Mia asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian managed a poor facsimile of a grin and set the sandwich down. “I think you outdid yourself today.” He chugged the soda he’d also ordered as if trying to wash the taste from his mouth. But it wasn’t the sandwich that was the problem. No, the problem was Toretto, the prime suspect for this case, probable jacker of trucks in the most insane, high speed heists, was a sentinel. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian was so, so fucked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia leaned closer, feeling Brian’s forehead with a look of concern, even as four cars roared up to the market. The drivers got out, laughing as they came inside. Brian recognized them all as the gang that hung around Toretto. And Vince, team meathead, was giving Brian the evil eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Brian said softly. “But I suggest a new batch for tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia laughed and lightly punched Brian’s shoulder. “That is a new batch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, that definitely tasted like the same bottle of pickles,” Brian countered, which was true, and slid the cost of his meal across the counter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Mia frowned, staring at the tune. “Shit,” she muttered and started looking around for the tuna she’d made that day and apparently not put in the counter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it.” Brian said. “See you tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vince followed him out of the market. “Try Fatburger from now on. Get yourself a double cheese with fries for $2.95, faggot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian turns back with a wide grin. “I like the tuna here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit. No one likes the tuna here.” Vince pointed back at the plate. “Even you spat it out today.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Today was different. See you tomorrow, Mia.” Not that Brian intended to be on this case tomorrow. Hiding himself from a guide was one thing, but hiding from a sentinel was another.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vince slamming Brian into the side of Harry’s truck shattered any thoughts about how to break this to Tanner. Brian’s response was measured but thorough. He had Vince down and pinned in four moves. “I let you have the first one,” he hissed into Vince’s ear. “Do not think I will let you—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A hand grabbed Brian’s collar and dragged him up. Rather than strangle, Brian let Vince go and stood, meeting the eyes of Dominic Toretto himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian had been trained by the Center up in Barstow, a small Center run by a guide who split his time between training the few sentinels and guides in the area and running digs on old Indian sites. Because of this, Brian’s training had included a heavy emphasis on the old ways, how the territorial instincts of a primitive sentinel had been strong and how that impacted those around him, sensitive and not. Brian had learned all this, but had never really understood it, not until he came face to face with Toretto and knew, deep down, he’d just intruded on a very primitive sentinel’s territory.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He was in my face,” Brian said flatly, going with the shove he saw coming, letting Toretto slam him up against the truck.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m in your face.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And he was, a lion roaring at the intruder. A perfectly positioned arm went back, smacking Vince in the chest and shoving him away. “Back off. You’re embarrassing me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian glared at Vince, trying to ignore the hand branding heat into his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who the fuck are you, blondy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Brian Spilner,” Brian replied, turning his eyes back to Toretto.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Brian Spilner? Sounds like a serial killer name. Is that what you are?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Toretto took a big sniff of Brian’s neck and growled into his ear. “No, you’re just a sentinel sniffing after my sister. Shoulda let Vince finish you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need no guide,” Brian snarled back, lifting a knee that Toretto barely twisted enough to block from hitting somewhere vital.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No?” Toretto leaned in harder, crushing the air from Brian’s lungs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I ain’t here for your guide.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No?” A feral sentinel would have crushed him, or broken his neck, but Toretto pulled back with that question, just enough for air to reenter Brian’s lungs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said, I ain’t here for your sister!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With that, something snapped between them and Toretto pulled all his weight away. Brian pushed out, shoving Toretto back and earning himself room to step away from the truck. Toretto stared at Brian, studying like he could see into Brian’s soul.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian’s heart stuttered as he heard the distant roar of a lion. Dragging every scrap of acting skill around him, he snapped with full machismo, “This is bullshit, man. You treat all your customer’s like this?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Toretto sneered. “You work for Harry, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s it to you?” Brian sneered back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were just fired.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian sent a coded text the moment he was two miles from Toretto’s market, and got himself “picked up for speeding” just shy of the Racer’s Edge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Half-an-hour later he was up at some historical crib in the hills instead of the precinct, resisting the urge to strangle Muse for cuffing him so tight he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We got a problem,” Brian snapped as soon as he spotted Sergeant Tanner at the door to the house.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t see Bilkins standing behind Tanner, but he could sure hear the guy bitch. “This is my best officer, you said. O’Conner can be anyone and anything, you said. But since we started, this guy has done nothing but bitch, whine, and—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There are some things I can’t do,” Brian bellowed, “some things no one can do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, calm down, everyone,” Tanner said, putting a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go inside and talk about this. Muse, go make us four iced cappuccinos.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Decaf or regular?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want a fucking cappuccino,” Brian snapped. He turned to Tanner and grabbed the front of his jacket. “I can’t go back there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Toretto scared you off already?” Bilkins taunted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Only in the sense that it won’t take him a week to finger me,” Brian snapped back. “Which you damned well should have known.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about, O’Conner?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian let go of Tanner and went nose to nose with Bilkins. “Are you telling me the high and mighty FBI can’t ID a sentinel when he’s the prime suspect of their case?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilkins frowned and shoved Brian back with one hand. “The only sentinel involved in this is you, and I’m starting to think that is a mistake.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Toretto is a sentinel,” Brian said flatly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, if Mia is his guide, that would explain a lot about their dynamic,” Tanner said, triggering a chorus of sniggers from the prurient cops listening in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A bond means intimacy,” Brian snapped, “not sex.” He glared at the lot of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but if  you had the option, would you pass it up?” one guy said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough,” Tanner snapped, grabbing Brian’s arm again before he could launch himself at the asshole. “Brian, you’re our best chance at this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And ten to one, the reason Toretto was even there today is Mia told him a sentinel has been hanging around,” Brian said, shrugging off Tanner’s touch. “He’s going to be watching me full time. Any dissonance, physical or emotional, and he’s going to figure me out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So don’t fuck up,” Bilkins ordered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>None of them were sensitive, not sensorally, emotionally, or anything. They didn’t get it. How one could pick up on things that were beyond anything their limited senses could note. And it drove Brian crazy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Muse has taken up smoking again, but only at home. He hopes if he showers before anyone sees him again, we won’t notice,” Brian said, finger pointing at Muse but facing Bilkins. His arm moved. “Tanner drinks at least six cups of coffee a day, and he needs to lay off the cappuccinos because he’s losing the ability to digest milk. His doctor just hasn’t picked up on it yet.” His arm moved again. “Davis and Wilks both have a new girlfriend. I’m just not sure if they’ve figured out it’s the same girl yet. And you”—he pointed at Bilkins—“like to smoke expensive cigars, but only when you’re out of state. Wife doesn’t approve?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilkins snarled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can get that all in ten minutes in here with you. I haven’t seen you in three weeks, and back then, you hadn’t had a cigar in months. You think Toretto won’t know where I’ve been five minutes after we next meet? Won’t recognize the smell of any of this lot if he’s met them? Any slip up, on my part, on your part, on any of their parts, and he will know. And if he’s as much the killer you all insist he is—” Brian beat a hand into his chest, over where he could still feel the warmth of Toretto’s touch. “—then I will end up dead.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then we’ll have him for murder too,” Bilkins said, sounding far too fucking pleased.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nera appeared beside Brian, though given no one reacted to the cheetah in the room, only to his eyes. She snapped at Bilkins, as displeased as he was about the jackass’s attitude.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone calm down,” Tanner said. Most of the cops settled almost as though Tanner were a guide and able to influence them. Wonders of being a good boss. But it wasn’t enough for Bilkins. Or Brian. “O’Conner, you really convinced you’re going to be made? You’re not even all the way in.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t make it all the way in.” Brian sank a hand into Nera’s ruff and fuck anyone who wondered what he was doing gripping empty air.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, go back, center yourself, and go to that race tonight. If he twigs on you, if you still have a bad feeling after, we’ll pull you,” Tanner promised, hands on Brian’s shoulders. But he was lying. Brian could hear his heart pounding. There was something else going on here, and they needed Brian right where he was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The race went well, in the sense that Brian ran it, lost (barely), and managed to rescue Toretto from the cops after. And Toretto’s spirit animal was definitely that lion Brian had heard earlier. Which was weird. Brian had never heard another sentinel’s spirit animal when it wasn’t visible to mundanes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You drive like you’ve done this before. Are you a wheelman?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian snorted. “Nah, just like cars.” Anything that could go faster than a hundred miles an hour was a good time in his books.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Like ‘em so much you boost ‘em,” Toretto said with far too much confidence. How was he so certain about that? Sure, it was on Brian’s fake records as Brian Earl Spilner, but a first and last name wasn’t enough to find that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Joy rides,” Brian counters, which was the truth. He’d only borrowed them as a teen. Gotten caught, spent a few months in juvie before being shipped to the Center instead. That had turned him around before he started selling to chop shops. His best friend on the other hand… Well, not a thought he needed right now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Toretto snorted and a feline seemed to chuff from the nonexistent back seat. “Right. You did two years for boosting, Brian Earl Spilner.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” Brian’s heart was in his throat and Nera was growling beside him. Shit, if Toretto picked up on that...</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mia got your full name out of you. Jesse can find anyone and anything on the Web. And he found you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian tried to slow his heart, to be calm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So why the bullshit?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You got any idea what it’s like on the inside?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I did two years in Lompoc,” Toretto said darkly. “I’ll die before I go back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian believed him. “Imagine how much worse it is with senses awake,” he said, dredging up every instant of the horror he’d felt those two weeks before the guards figured him out. “The smells, the constant sounds—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t have to imagine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And Brian’s stomach flipped over again. Two years in Lompoc? And he’d been online part of that? What the fuck were the guards doing up there if they hadn’t twigged?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh fuck,” Dominic rumbled, his focus on… three motorcycles, coming up fast.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s gonna be a long ass night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian wondered why the fuck the Trans had not been on the list of possible suspects Bilkins had handed him. And he would be looking into that. Because if Johnny wasn’t involved in more than illegal street racing, Brian would eat his tires.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whenever he got tires again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Because the Trans just blew up his car.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell was that?” Brian asked as they started trudging down the street towards Dominic’s home.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Business deal went south. No big.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No big?” Brian stared at Dominic. “You insane? Never heard of someone blowing up a car over a business deal.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I might have also slept with his sister.” Dominic smirked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian rolled his eyes. “Idiot,” he muttered. But now it made sense. “Don’t mix business and pleasure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What would you know about it?” The words were defensive. Hell, the tone was defensive. And yet Brian didn’t feel Dominic was actually defensive. Brian had seen the man defensive. Now he felt…. Welcome.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nera was chirping behind him, and something was huffing back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What the fuck was that about?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, and he damned sure wasn’t sure how, Brian survived the meeting with the Trans and the long walk back to Dominic’s turf. He even survived the posturing at the party. All without giving in to the building urge to scream.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’d also survived Dom, seemed to be sinking into part of Dom’s little gang. Or so Brian’s instincts were telling him. That feeling of intrusion was fading fast. And that was scaring the shit out of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Though Dom’s admission the night before was perhaps even more terrifying.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So he ditched his next meeting with Tanner and drove Harry’s truck to the LA Center. He hadn’t been there much. No need. He was fully trained and hadn’t had any complaints with the LAPD. Not before now anyway. So he stopped at the front desk and asked for whoever was responsible for reviewing sentinel and guide claims by alleged and confirmed criminals.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was sent to a closet on the fourth floor. Inside was a small desk, a shit ton of filing cabinets, and a very frazzled looking young woman.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Guide Lin?” Brian asked from the doorway. There was no room for him to enter even if he wanted to.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” she snapped at him, not looking up from her computer screen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Officer O’Conner,” he said. “I have a question regarding a prisoner at Lompoc—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Current?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Five years ago, a two year term.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got here two years ago,” she said, her eyes finally coming up to look at him through her thick glasses. “In that time I have barely been able to keep up with the claims coming through. I have no time to go back and make sense of this… this… clusterfuck”�—she waved her hand at the mess of cabinets around her—“to figure out what the hell my predecessor did for one maximum security prisoner.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She ended on something just shy of a scream, her emotions battering at Brian’s shields. She was so out of control, a mundane would have been sent running in terror.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ma’am, I have reason to believe this prisoner came online while at Lompoc and was left there to finish out his sentence,” Brian snapped out through clenched teeth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he file a complaint?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian stared at her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If he didn’t file a complaint, if he never told anyone he was online, there’s not a hell of a lot I can do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s against the law—People are supposed to be trained to look for such things—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And sometimes people don’t. Look, Officer, if your criminal files a complaint, I might be able to look into it. But let’s be honest. This is a forgotten division in an overworked Center and nothing will get done.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The defeated tone in her voice sickened Brian. It was a division like this one that got him out of juvie, that turned his life around and allowed him to become a defender of the tribe. Without it, he’d likely be locked away in one of those sentinel special prisons, locked in a white, padded, muffled, six by six room, going insane.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for your time, ma’am,” Brian said stiffly. As he left, all he could feel was her relief.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where the fuck have you been?” Tanner said. And Brian actually stopped a moment because Tanner never cussed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We thought Toretto had killed you,” Bilkins added, sounding smug and pleased with himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I had an errand to run,” Brian said flatly. “And now I need a car.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Given what happened to the last car we gave you—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Toretto says I owe him a car,” Brian said, glaring Bilkins down. For once in his life, he did nothing to hide what he was, deep down. He was a sentinel, protector of the tribe, defender of his territory. He was not to be ignored, maligned, or slighted. “I get a car to give him, I’m in. You still want me in?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something Brian did got through. Bilkins was all for it and more than willing to offer another car, all concerns about the cost of the last one forgotten. Tanner was more concerned, following Brian from the house.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What changed?” Tanner asked once they were alone by the pool. “Yesterday you wanted out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you wanted me in. What’s the problem?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The problem is you’re right. Toretto is a killer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No he’s not,” Brian said firmly. He’d met a killer last night. Johnny Tran was a killer. Dom was angry, and had every right to be. But he was in control and he wasn’t a killer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He beat a guy half to death with a ¾ inch torque wrench. Would have finished it if his sister hadn’t pulled him off the guy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nera chirped, but Brian didn’t need her to point out that  something was wrong with that.  But he wasn’t sure what. He’d heard the story before, thought he understood it, but suddenly something didn’t mesh. Was it the case? The talk with Dom? Or Tanner’s phrasing?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want you ending up in that same position.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And Brian couldn’t say he wouldn’t. But he also knew he couldn’t walk away. He’d found something out last night. He needed to see where it led, case be damned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just get me a car. And listen next time I tell you to pull me.” Brian stared Tanner down, playing sentinel just like he had with Bilkins. And Tanner backed down. But he didn’t cave. He just shook his head and looked disappointed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This about Mia?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” And Brian was shocked to realize that he meant that. He liked Mia, felt an affinity for her, more of one than he’d felt in years with any guide, but he wasn’t staying in for her. He could walk away from her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was in this for Dom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am so fucked,” he muttered to himself as he walked through the gate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On the drive back to Harry’s, Brian stopped and made three calls: one to start the search for a car to impress Dom, one to a fellow sentinel in the LAPD who could get him the full file on Dom, and one to a number Brian had been given many years ago and never expected to call.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The file was the first to arrive, but Brian didn’t have time to read it before he heard back about the car. Then he spent the rest of the day driving between three different LAPD and FBI yards to find the perfect car. Idiots in charge still couldn’t pick out a diamond in the rough to save their lives.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He finally got to read the file in his little corner at the back of The Racer’s Edge. It all matched the file Sergeant Tanner had given him at the start of this case. Dominic Toretto was a fairly standup guy with a thing for fast cars, nothing worse than speeding tickets and an unproven taste for street racing. Until the day he took a three-quarters inch torque wrench to the head of Kenny Linder and beat him half to death for no reason. Same old same old.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Until Brian found the handwritten notes by one of the investigating officers:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>My partner says it means something that this happened not ten minutes after someone knocked Toretto’s old man into a wall. Fair enough, it’s a possibility. But it’s no protection. I gave the kid the usual questions, but he says there’s been no change in sensory perception. And he came out of it too easy for it to have been a feral state. All the witnesses say his sister grabbed his arm and he just crumpled, sobbing. A real feral incident and he’d have killed Linder, no matter what his sister did.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian made a note to look up the partner. Because he knew perfectly well that a guide could sometimes pull a sentinel from a feral state. If they’d had a proto familial bond even before the incident, of course Mia had stopped Dom. Any whiff of a feral state and the situation should have been pushed to a specialized investigator.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before settling down to sleep, Brian made another call to the sentinel who’d gotten him the file. He wanted background on the investigating officers and the file on Dom’s father’s death. There had to be a reason Dom had chosen Kenny Linder to go after.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Watching Dom’s expression go from dismissive to enthralled as Jesse rattled off the stats of the junker Brian brought to the garage absolutely made Brian’s day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I gotta get your racing again so I can make some money off your ass. There’s a showdown in the desert called Race Wars, that’s where you’ll do it.” Dom said all this while staring avariciously at the car. But then he turned that attention, and that look, on Brian. “When you’re not working at Harry’s, you’re working here. If you can’t find the right tool in the garage, Mr. Arizona, you don’t belong near a car.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dom stalked off to the car with that, his gang following as they considered the best place to start.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia followed last, walking past Brian and whispering to him, “He owns you know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The words sunk into his hindbrain and lit up his forebrain. And Brian realized that the car had nothing to do with it. Ownership had transferred two days before somewhere between running from the cops, the car being blown up, and an offered beer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian looked into the depths of the garage as he tried to come to terms with just how much he’d screwed up. He should call Tanner. He had to be pulled. The case was fucked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And spotted Nera sprawled by the back wall, her forequarters across the back of a scared up lion, looking all too damned pleased with herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian liked Jesse. For all his franticness, there was a deep calmness in him as well. Brian wondered if the kid was a bit of a dormant guide or at least sensitive. Empathic, you know? Either way, Brian enjoyed working with him on the car. And his ideas…. Pure genius. No doubt about it. If Brian didn’t end up sending Jesse up river for highjacking, maybe he could find a way to hook him up with a professional racing team. Or a car manufacturer. Something that made use of his skills and wouldn’t care about the ADD and lack of formal education.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leon was cool too, mellow and hilarious by turns. He may have hidden in the background, but Brian suspected there was more to the man. Leon just liked letting others take the limelight, and with Vince around, there was always someone ready to cast a shadow for Leon to hide in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vince Brian did not like, and the feeling was mutual. Brian just couldn’t figure out which part of the jealousy was over Dom and which over Mia. And why Dom hadn’t even really slapped Vince down. There was no way Vince would ever get a date with Mia, and if he did, Vince wouldn’t survive a week. Mia would eat him alive. There was too much power there for Vince, who was all surface fire and bluster.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian pretty well got the team, even Letty, though how she let herself get used by Dom so much for comfort, Brian wasn’t sure. They were good together, Letty and Dom, but not permanent. Dom needed someone with fire and strength, which Letty had, but also something more. There was something Dom wasn’t getting from the team, from Letty, even from Mia. And Brian could not see what it was. Though the longer he spent around them all, the more he could see the great gaping wounds, unhealed and festering, that affected them all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After another late night at the garage, Dom brought Brian home with him. “You need some real food,” was all the man said when Brian said he’d go back to Harry’s.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And since Brian had been living on fast food the last few weeks, Dom might have a point.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian fully conceded as the taste of Mia’s cooking hit his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You looked like you enjoyed dinner,” Mia said after Brian had cleaned his plate twice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Warmth filled Brian’s cheeks. “I think I’d forgotten what real food tastes like. You’re a very good cook.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mial smiled sadly. “All Mama’s old recipes. I can recreate her dishes, but I can’t seem to master creating my own.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone has their own gifts,” Brian said, setting his dishes in the sink. “Mine is burning water, so you’re well up on me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That got him a good laugh, and he savored the delight she radiated as he started scrubbing dishes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you don’t have to do that. Go join the others at the TV, or crash in the guest room. You look beat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cook doesn’t clean where I’m from,” Brian said simply, nudging her away when she tried to get at the sink. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to go there.” Mia took up a rag and started drying what Brian cleaned, tucking the dry dishes away as she went.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Brian set the last dish on the counter, he turned to Mia and studied her carefully. “You’ve never had training for your gifts.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where?” Mia said with a moue of distaste. “The Center? I don’t need their bullshit. I’ve always had excellent control.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can see that,” Brian said. He could feel it too. Her smooth shields and excellent mental control were half the appeal of her. And once again he wondered how she’d never been in trouble. Strong guides were trouble magnets, and Mia was a very strong guide. “Still, it’s always good to get beyond instinctive control.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wash my car when you get done.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian growled, turning to face Vince. But it was Mia who spoke first. “What was that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Mia, I’m talking to the punk. And wear your favorite dress, ‘cause when you get done, I’m putting you on the street  where you belong, cutie.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rather than respond to Vince, Brian turned back to Mia. “He really doesn’t get it. I thought it was just an act, but…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia shook her head sadly. “Nope. Not a clue.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Vince roared. “I’m talking to you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Vince, you’re trying to get a rise from him, and unfortunately for you, he’s more evolved,” Mia said, turning back to the counter and putting the last dish in the cabinet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Brian, you said something about dinner?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian didn’t know what Mia was talking about, but he could follow a line fine. “There’s this amazing Irish place in Santa Monica.” Vince was silently building from drunk amusement to full blown anger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tomorrow?” Mia’s smirk said she knew exactly what she was doing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Saturday would be better unless Dom lets us go early enough to beat traffic.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia patted Brian on the shoulder. “My last class gets out at two. I’ll handle Dom.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If we get there early enough, we could do a walk on the beach before dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The smile on Mia’s face lit up the room and Brian wished, just for a microsecond, that she could really be his.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They made it outside before Vince could blow, but Brian heard the moment Vince turned his ire loose before Dom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He doesn’t deserve you,” Brian said, gently holding Mia’s hand. He pressed a kiss to the back of it and released her. “And neither do I.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia cupped his cheek with the hand he had kissed. “I’ll decide what I deserve. And tomorrow I deserve a walk on the beach and a meal I don’t have to cook.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian leaned into her touch, physical and mental. “It would be my pleasure, ma’am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“This is not a date, however,” she added firmly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I never suspected otherwise.” Brian took her hand in his, pressed another kiss to the back, and released her. “Until tomorrow, my lady.” Mia flushed and went back to the house. Brian in turn walked to the street and tried to find the energy to get back to Harry’s… in the truck that was still at the garage.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit.”  He collapsed onto the curb, rubbing his hands through Nera’s fur when she deigned to appear in his lap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but he knew Dom had been standing on the porch behind him for most of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Don’t suppose I can borrow your car to go home,” Brian finally said in a conversational tone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be stupid.” Dom finally came down the steps, stopping behind Brian. “You’re too tired. Crash in the guest room.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t think Vince would approve.” Brian could still hear the loudmouth bitching in the living room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll deal. You really taking Mia out tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You gonna kill me if I say yes?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dom let out a huff of laughter. “Mia’s got a taste for trouble, but she can handle herself. Last time I tried to intrude on her choices, I got called a neanderthal and had to feed myself for a month.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian hissed. “Harsh, man.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No shit.” Dom’s hand appeared in Brian’s peripheral vision. “Come on, get some sleep. I’ll have you up bright and early what with you leaving early for your date.” The last word was said in a teasing tone, but there was something else under it. Something Brian was too damned tired to identify. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He took Dom’s hand and let the other man haul him to his feet. “S’not a date,” Brian slurred sleepily. “She wants an excuse not to cook after her test tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dom chuckled. “I know that, Bri. If I thought otherwise, I wouldn’t be offering you that bed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought you needed my ass racing, not crashing from sleep dep.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That I do,” Dom said, far too cheerful and coherent for Brian’s taste. “Besides, you told me day one you weren’t here for Mia.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“S’not my guide,” Brian said softly, mournfully, leaning into Dom’s side. He faintly remember’d Dom’s arm coming around his waist, warm muscles under his head, and then nothing until the slam of a fist on wood woke Brian at the crack of dawn.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian got a call he was not expecting while walking down the beach with Mia.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tomorrow, two pm, if you’d like to be there for the beginning.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And that was it, but the number on his burner was exactly the same as he’d memorized all those years ago. The number his mentor had given him when he left for the LAPD. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Someday, Brian, you may find yourself in a situation that just isn’t right, where the Center isn’t doing it’s job. By all the gods, I hope you never need this, but if you do. Well, better to have it. In those circumstances, call this number, tell them the problem, and show up when they tell you.” The strangest smirk had crossed the old man’s lips then, like he was remembering some really good revenge. “Oh yes, do show up when they tell you. And enjoy the show.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?” Mia asked when Brian hung up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Invitation to something tomorrow.” He winced. “Think Dom’ll let me go for the afternoon?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it important?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian poured every ounce of honesty into his words. “Very.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So why me?” Brian asked over dinner. “Why now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia grinned playfully. “Well, you are the hottest thing on two legs to walk into my market in sometime.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian flushed. “And you’re not dating me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Mia’s smile went ruefle. “I learned long ago that some people aren’t for dating, and other should be avoided. But I also learned to trust Me-me’s opinion. And she likes you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Me-me?” Brian couldn’t remember meeting anyone by that name.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come by for the cookout Sunday and you can meet her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like that.” Even as he said that, he heard Nera’s chirrp. She was standing in the doorway, calling to something outside. Or someone. Suddenly, Brian had a sinking feeling he’d just let himself in for more trouble.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian was late to the Center the next day. He’d been fighting the last pieces of the engine clean and Dom wouldn’t let him leave before they were done. Though, when Dom had seen how frantic Brian was to go, he had chipped in his own elbow grease. The cleanup seemed to fly after that. That engine was gonna sparkle when they put it back together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So Brian was covered in grease and sweat when he finally walked into the Center lobby. And stopped to take it all in. At the center of the room were two figures, one in a white suite and one in a black suit. Given the height difference between them, either the one in white was a giant or the one in black was a midget. Though it could be both. They were standing too far from anything to get a clean point of reference and so they looked… off. Distracting. Strange. Out of place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No one was helping them, though. People were peering from doorways and the people behind the desk were staring, but no one said a word.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nera chirped at Brian’s side, and Brian got an impression, not a clear sound, but a feeling of two deep huffs. Undercut by a lot of amusement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian walked over to the two figures. Once he got ahead of them, he could see the  tall one was a woman with gelled back short blond hair and strong features. The short figure in turn was a man, definitely with dwarfism of some kind, with a scruffy beard and flyway longish hair. The woman was staring blankly at the wall. The man was grinning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Brian said, and the man before him lit up, the grin becoming animate and playful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m not really familiar with this place, but can I help you?” Brian heard the crew behind the desk whispering berations from one to the next. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That would be lovely,” the man said. “I am David Finkelstein and this is my lovely wife, who refuses to take my fine name—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The woman snorted and scruffed a hand through her husband’s hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“though as she is an amazing woman who I truly do not deserve, I cannot complain. My precious, Leo McCloud. And we are the Auditors.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man said it with emphasis and a clear capital letter. Brian struggled with a smirk, but the man, David, had his eyes on everyone else in the lobby.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh come now, does no one get it? It’s a joke. Terry Pratchett?” He huffed. “I know he’s British, but there is some amazing literature that does not come from America.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, finally, one of the desk staff, a mousy looking man, shuffled up to Brian’s side. “Umm, can we help you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You work here?” David said brightly. When the man nodded, David said, “Wonderful. My wife and I are here to audit your records.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man looked blank, and sounds of panic echoed through the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no, please don’t panic,” David said, holding out his hands. “No, we’re not a problem. We’re just the regular check and balance, you know. Life is a red tape bureaucracy, after all. We just need an office and access to your records. And, bonus, while we’re here, you can throw any complaints and issues to us. No questions asked.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A squeek by the elevators drew everyone’s attention as it was well above the quiet murmur everyone else was using. When Brian turned, he saw Guide Lin turning pink and shrinking back into the wall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You, young lady with the lovely mink spirit animal. Is there some issue you have been struggling with that the Auditors can help you with?” David walked over as he spoke, but his wife remained in the middle of the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And Brian got it. David Finkelstine was a guide, a strong one, quite possibly shaman level. And he was playing the clown and front while his wife, the sentinel, was checking out everything going on in the building. She knew who had noticed their arrival, who had reported it and to whom. She knew who was frantically hiding something and who was already preparing their files for review.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian looked from David, expertly soothing Ms. Lin and promising her everything would be sorted out, to Leo, who turned to him, just a bit, and let a hint of a smile curl up her lips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Officer O’Conner?” she asked, almost silently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and she held out her hand. Into it, Brian placed the folder he had brought containing everything he’d been able to pull together on Dom, the current case, the conviction.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now me, I’m just the sideshow, Sandy,” David said, leading Ms. Lin over to his wife. “But my wife is a fully qualified lawyer. If anyone can get all those idiots off your back, she can. And then I will take you out for a fine, respectable dinner at a place that serves lots and lots of wine. Do you like wine, Sandy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leo turned her attention to her husband and Brian slunk into the background. For the first time since this case fell in his lap, he had a good feeling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The cookout Sunday felt even more welcoming than the dinner a few nights before. Even Vince’s little hissy fit could not detract from just how comfortable Brian felt at the table with Dom and Mia and the team.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No one warned him about grace, but fortunately Jesse jumped the gun.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, hold up.” Dom said before Jesse had a firm grip on his chicken leg. “Because you were the first to reach in, you say grace.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jesse set the chicken on his plate and folded his hands under his chin, glaring at the others until they did the same. “Dear heavenly….”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Spirit,” Letty prompted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Spirit. Thank you. Um, thank you for providing us with direct port nitrous injection… four core intercoolers and ball bearing turbos… and titanium valve springs.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Amen,” everyone chorused with varying degrees of laughter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not bad,” Dom said. “Dig in.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Praying to the car gods, man,” Leon said. “If you had a spirit animal, it’d be a mustang convertible.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not the best,” Mia admitted softly in Brian’s ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did seem a bit odd for a catholic household,” Brian admitted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He is what he is,” Dom said firmly. “We don’t hold it against him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Certainly not,” Brian agreed. “Though I think he’d be a coyote.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia grinned. “Creator and destroyer, trickster, ever overeating. Yep, that sounds like our Jesse.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian waited for his next question until everyone had been served. “Thought you said Me-me would be here today.” He directed his question to Mia, but it was Dom who almost snorted his beer out his nose.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You said he could meet Me-me?” Dom looked shocked. Or awestruck.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She likes him,” Mia said, ignoring the dramatic reaction of her brother. And the varying looks from the team. Leon seemed to get it, but Letty looked confused and Jesse was grinning like a loon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we all see Me-Me?” Jesse asked. “And Dale? We haven’t played in ages.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“S’up to them,” Mia said, gesturing to the back fence. Behind Brian.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turned in his seat, not sure what he was looking for. Until he saw it. An elephant was standing by the fence, a good size one with long tusks, ears flapping gently in the afternoon heat. At its feet, her feet, lay a male lion, the one Brian had been seeing from time to time. His main was clipped short and he looked… scarred.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And next to him was Nera, looking too damned pleased with himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian turned to Mia. “You’re an elephant guide.” The knowledge sunk in slowly, the facts he’d learned about elephant guides percolating up from the depths of his mind. There were certain spirit animals that usually bonded with shaman guides, and elephants were one of them. Especially matriarch elephants, which Me-me definitely was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia shrugged and smiled. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You….” Brian was shocked anew. “You have no idea what that means. How can you have no idea what that means?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A spirit animal is what it is,” Mia said, looking a little perturbed. “Me-me is mine and I am hers. What else do I need to know?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who else knows?” Brian demanded, then reined himself in. “Mia, people have been researching who has what spirit animal for centuries. Most of the ranking is shit. Herbivores are not inherently weaker than carnivores or shit like that. But it has been shown that those guides who are capable of shaman rank have one of a small number of spirit animals. The largest number have wolves, then lions, then elephants….”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia finally looked like she was paying attention. “But…” She looked over at Me-me. “It doesn’t mean it’s a given.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ask her,” Brian said, nodding at the elephant in the yard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know this?” Dom asked while Mia processed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sentinel/Guide studies 202. This is basic history of stuff.” Brian huffed. “How have neither of you gotten training. You, I get, sorta, coming online later, but Mia’s still in school. Someone shoulda—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was never offline,” Dom said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian froze a moment. “Pardon?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t remember ever not having the senses. Maybe I came online when Mia was born, but I don’t remember. I just… I’ve always been like this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> <em>I gave the kid the usual questions, but he says there’s been no change in sensory perception.</em> That’s what the investigating officer had said in his notes about Dom. But if he didn’t come online that day….</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why Kenny Linder?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” Dom snapped, standing and looming over Brian.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The officers fucked up, Dom. They screwed you. Why Kenny Linder?” Brian said, trying to stay calm under the increasing pressure from Dom. A pissed off sentinel was not easy to confront.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He killed my father! I saw him! He may not remember now, but I saw him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia’s hand on Dom’s shoulder soothed anger and settled Dom. Brian could feel it radiating out across the whole group.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No one believed you. Said you couldn’t see that far, couldn’t have known.” It was all falling into place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They insisted it was an accident,” Mia whispered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He laughed as he hit Dad,” Dom screamed, then collapsed. Mia wrapped her arms around him. “I heard Dad scream,” he whispered. “They said it was me screaming.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They were wrong,” Brian said firmly, crouching to stare into Dom’s eyes. In there, he saw those same scars that marked Dom’s lion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know about Kenny Linder?” Leon asked after the silence stretched too long.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian barely considered his options before saying flatly, “I’m a cop.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Frantic protests and disbelief rolled up and down the table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dom just stared. Then slapped his hand flat on the table, shutting everyone up. “Explain,” he commanded through gritted teeth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone’s been jacking trucks.” The emotional backlash had Brian certain that he’d found the culprits. And that wasn’t admissible in court. Good thing he no longer gave a shit about bringing these people to trial. “I was sent in to find out who. Instead, I found a sentinel, a guide, and a massive miscarriage of justice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It had taken a lot of fast talking, but in the end, Brian had managed to get the team together and over to the Center. Even Vince, who’d shown up and thrown a hell of a hissy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew there was something wrong with him, Dom. I told you he was a cop.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Still, it was time to make some changes, and the Center was the best place to get the ball rolling. Brian pinpointed Leo and David’s heartbeats three blocks away, so he knew they were hard at work.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Or hardly working.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>David was busy chatting up the staff in the lobby, his sentinel looming by the wall. What you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t really try, was that Leo always had a file folder in her hands. And that a troop of people were slipping in and out of the lobby, trading out the folders and taking away handwritten notes. But everyone’s eyes were on David.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The moment Leo noticed Brian, David turned his way too. Then he did a double take.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, hello there,” David said, walking directly over to Mia. “I must say, I don’t think I’ve ever met an elephant guide before.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia just stared at him and Dom started getting tetchy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, forgive me. I am David Finkelstine, lion guide. And I think we’ll be staying in LA a bit longer than planned. You, young lady, need training.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve uncovered enough to fire the lot of them,” Leo said, walking over with yet another file folder in hand. “I say we retrain a few and otherwise start this Center over from the ground up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Sandy has some potential. And this young lady would make a solid center. You are?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mia Toretto,” Brian said when it was clear Mia wouldn’t respond.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, the racer’s sister.” David turned to Dom. “And you must be Dominic. Excellent. We’ll get your legal troubles fixed shortly. The LAPD will have to deal with some turnover as we sue the idiots who arrested you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Dom snapped. He was on the edge, and Mia was in no state to calm him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian stepped in between Dom and Mia, setting a hand on a shoulder each and trying to radiate calm and peace and hope. “You had a feral incident and went after your father’s killer. There are laws in place for such things. You never should have been sent to Lompoc.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>David shivered. “From your lips to God’s ear. No, no one should be sent away for something they could not control. That none of the proper authorities stepped in is doubly condemnation. Major events with a chance for injury or death are required to have someone trained in recognizing sentinels and guides in distress. So I assure you we’ll be looking into the track too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dom blinked. It wasn’t just a physical action. His whole worldview shifted. Brian could feel it, flickering and twisting. Mia shifted too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They banned me from racing. From the track,” Dom said hoarsely. “Said sentinels weren’t allowed to race. That I had no control.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They knew what he was,” Mia said. “And they hid it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leo’s lips twisted in a shark-like grin. “Don’t suppose you still have that letter?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Dom said sharply.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Jesse said shyly. Everyone turned and he shrunk in on himself a little. “I saved it, and everything else that came in. Seemed right at the time, and it never felt right to toss it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And who are you?” David said, head cocked and squinting at Jesse. “You attract some interesting people around you, Toretto. Young man, come visit me. I think we might be able to do something about your distractibility.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You think you can help him? How?” Dom demanded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry yourself about your people,” David said, patting Dom on the stomach (if he’d been taller it would have been the chest, but well, David was short). “I’m no threat to you and yours. And your boy here is something special. Not quite sure what yet, but if we sort through things—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know?” Dom said, not placated in the least.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>David finally turned back to Dom. “I’m a lion guide, well trained one at that.” He studied Dom a moment. “But of course you have no idea what that means. Pity.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a shaman, Dom,” Brian said. “He can see and sense things we can’t even imagine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“About that training you mentioned….” Mia stuttered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilkins was livid. “What were you thinking? You’ve ruined this case.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tanner was stunned. “Brian… what…. Why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian didn’t give a shit. “I did what was best for the tribe.” He smirked at them both, fingers clenched in Nera’s ruff. “You should have considered that when you picked a sentinel for your undercover.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Getting a dangerous group of thieves off the streets is best for the damned tribe,” Bilkins bellowed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Correcting a miscarriage of justice and uncovering governmental and corporate corruption influencing millions is far more important than a few hundred thousand in stolen goods,” Brian spat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Millions?” Tanner asked softly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The investigation is just beginning, but there are indications of intentional underreporting of sentinel and guide incidents, cost savings in providing appropriately trained staff at big events, and extensive graft in covering it all up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I hope to Christ that none of you are involved in it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I see.” Tanner looked shattered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t give a fuck what you see,” Bilkins sneered. “I see my case gone up in flames. Toretto is going to get away with it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If Dom did it,” Brian said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bilkins leaned in and spat, “If?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If… then he has already paid. Two years in Lompoc with active sentinel senses is hell. It’s a miracle he didn’t kill anyone in there. Or go mad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Tanner shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t even imagine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna go with the time served excuse?” Bilkins crossed his arms. “What bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Or…” Brian cocked his head, shark-like grin on his features. He didn’t know for sure, but he had a bad feeling the Trans wouldn’t be able to resist trying to prove they could do anything Toretto did, even after being warned about the FBI. “Or maybe it wasn’t Dom, and you’ll catch them yet.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You saying you know it wasn’t Toretto, Brian?” Tanner asked eagerly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have no evidence one way or the other,” Brian said flatly. “And if you slip someone else in, I won’t blow their cover. But the racers are gonna know who I am, and guess why I was there, so be careful if you send anyone else in.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian went to The Racer’s Edge and got his shit, told Harry he was probably off the hook but Brian’s cover was definitely blown.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian went to his apartment, because where else could he go? It wasn’t home. It didn’t even feel like his territory. After an hour spent pacing, he stalked out to his personal car—not quite one that would make Dom drool, but not bad—and started driving.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His wheels led him to Dom’s house in Echo Park. Brian parked because he couldn't help himself, but he didn’t go in. He wasn’t sure he had any right to be in this neighborhood, let alone at this house.  Nera didn’t seem to have the same qualms, running through the front door even as Brian was getting out of his car.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing better to do, and no better idea, Brian propped his hip on his car’s hood and stared at the house. He could hear Dom inside, and Mia was in the kitchen. Jesse was setting the table with help. Leon? And something smelled really good. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The familiar sensory input washed over Brian. He could almost zone on it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dom stepped outside. “You gonna stay there all night?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mia made lasagna.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian went inside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Later, Mia was upstairs studying, the gang was scattered doing who knows what—probably working to dispose of the evidence of their part in the truck jackings—and Dom and Brian were on the couch watching something. Brian wasn’t really paying attention.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dom nudged Brian with his shoulder. “You back for Mia?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian snorted. “Dom, I like Mia. Everybody likes Mia. She’s likable. But we’re not compatible. She’s a shaman level guide. I’m just an everyday, front lines sentinel.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s held me together pretty well all these years.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Familial bonds trump everything.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something blew up on the TV. The burst of flame glinted in an eye, and Brian’s attention was drawn to the corner of the room. Where Nera lay sprawled across Dom’s Dale. Again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dale was looking a bit less scarred up already.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So what are you here for?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian stiffened. “I’ll leave.” He didn’t make it to standing. Dom’s hand on his shoulder held him to the couch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I asked you a question, Bri. Not ordered you out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Brian fumbled for an answer. He turned to Dom, and in those brown eyes saw an invitation, one he’d been seeing for a bit, but hadn’t understood before. Not consciously. “Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wrapping a hand around the back of Dom’s neck, Brian leaned in and kissed him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah. Fuck, Bri, do that again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mia grinned smugly at Brian through the whole of breakfast. So did Dom. Brian wasn’t sure which was more irritating.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He called David as soon as he could slip away for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can two sentinels bond?” Brian asked the shaman guide.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, one of the questions for the ages. You don’t pull your punches, officer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I really, really don’t have the strength or time for jokes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Brian didn’t have to see the guide to know the imp was grinning and not the least bit sorry. “Your average staffer at a Center will say no. As will any number of researchers or teachers of classes on sentinels and guides.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I sense a however,” Brian said, hope filling his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“However, I have met two guides who refuse to seek out sentinels. They say they’re very happy together and in perfect balance with each other. So do I think it is possible for two sentinels to find the same wholeness as a sentinel and a guide, or those two guides? Yes. Maybe. What do you think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Dom stepped outside the back door and was looking at Brian. And Brian’s senses were focusing in and his heart felt… light. Whole. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think that before you leave LA I might have an answer for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Excellent.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian hung up before David could say anything more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You wonder if two sentinels can bond?” Dom murmured, stalking over to Brian.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bonding is about intimacy and requires an affinity between two people. Like a familial relationship—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Or similar interests?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That can work.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Never had a bond before,” Dom drawled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve had a bond with Mia since she was born,” Brian corrected. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t form a bond with someone else.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A bond with a bit more sex involved?” Dom nosed up the side of Brian’s neck.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian shivered “Maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t know. We’re pretty different.” Dom bit Brian’s ear lobe. Lightly. “You a cop. Me a criminal.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just see a couple of street racing punks.” Brian slipped a hand into Dom’s back pocket and squeezed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A need for speed.” Dom crowded Brian against the wall of the garage. “Your shaman thinks they’ll let me back on the track.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You deserve it.” Brian nibbled on Dom’s neck, reveling in the taste. Motor oil shouldn’t be a turn on, but it was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Could use another man on the crew.” Dom’s fingers somehow popped Brian’s zipper and slipped inside his jeans.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How about another car on the team?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, for God’s sake, you two. Get a room.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian grinned at Dom, not at all deterred by Mia’s protest, not even with Me-me’s trumpet backing her up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Got one, thanks,” Dom called back before corralling Brian into the garage. “Think you can stand coming in second the rest of your life?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes you think I’m gonna lose?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Besides that lead foot of yours?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian twisted and dumped Dom across the trunk of the car. “Nice Charger.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks. It was Dad’s.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I drive better when I’m not playing a part.” Brian slipped Dom’s cargos down his legs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dom twisted and dumped Brian on the trunk. “You acting now, Bri?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How about a bet.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Loser bottoms.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You like it on the bottom.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So do you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~o0o~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A scarred lion jumps toward a cheetah, the cheetah toward the lion, and in a flash of blue light, both merge and vanish.</span>
</p>
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